


cruelty loves liars.

by cptlewnixon



Series: HBO War Writings: A Collection [12]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Other, why it tags it as kenyon webster instead of david webster I'll never understand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 03:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10801134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptlewnixon/pseuds/cptlewnixon
Summary: Requested. I was given the three words "cruelty," "love," and "liar(s)," but I ended up mashing them all together.





	cruelty loves liars.

Cruelty loves liars.

Being lied to is an excuse to be cruel, and some people find more pleasure in this than they should.

Like parents.

Joe Liebgott learned to value the truth in all its forms after his childhood, where he was sure that “cruelty loves liars” lived in the minds of his parents. A small white lie where no one was hurt could end up with soap in the mouth, hands rated by a ruler, rear reddened by the unforgiving smacks of a belt.

And God forbid he lied about something bigger. God forbid he lied about breaking something, or not breaking something. Covering for his siblings so he’d get the brunt of it all. So goes the life of an older brother.

It got to the point where, in his teenage years, he’d start fighting back. At first was with his words; learning to be witty and come up with quips on the fly was all part of the defense mechanism. He’d get chewed out for something minor and he’d fire right back. This would lead to numerous arguments, fighting for the sake of fighting, but it’d escalate.

It soon got the point where he’d have to start fighting back with his fists.

With his family, it wasn’t fists, but with random passersby, it would be. A remark here, a snide comment there, and he’d turn around and challenge them. Say it to his face, why don’t you. I bet you won’t, coward. The person would back down when they saw the fire in his eyes, the clenching of his fists. They lied, said they didn’t say anything.

But cruelty loves liars.

Moments later, fists would fly. Black eyes and broken noses. Bloody lips and bloody knuckles. Cold ice and bloodstained clothes. Arguments at home.

Liebgott learned that instead of going to jail, the military would be the best place to channel all this loose cannon energy. He only did it when his younger siblings were old enough to fight for themselves, because he didn’t want to leave them defenseless, out in the wild with no protection or shelter. He hoped their parents would be nicer on them than him.

The fight on the _Samaria_ was, at best, impulsive, and, at worst, unavoidable. He could handle insults about the way he dressed, the way he walked, how he talked, but when religion was brought in, when his family was brought in, he would fight.

When he and Webster went to find the commandant, he couldn’t take Webster insinuating he wasn’t telling the truth. What prison, he was asked. You don’t know, he was told. Jeered, cajoled.

Telling the truth was more important to him now. He knew this man was a commandant, officers don’t run. How _dare_ he be told he didn’t know. He knew, and he’d be damned before he let someone do it to him again.

Cruelty loves liars.

To tell the truth will grant you mercy, understanding. He didn’t know this for a long time; even when he did feel bold and told the truth, he’d be called a liar, and he’d be hurt. They say the truth hurts, and he knew this for a fact; it was a harsh fact to learn as a child, especially when the opposite should be true.

The next thing he learned: compassion loves truth.

When he told Webster that there was a commandant living up in the hills, in a small cabin, Webster challenged his knowledge. It was unspoken between them that this might have been about his religion, but even if it was, so what? He told the truth, and at least everyone else understood. Nazis don’t get compassion for telling the truth; they get death, and he was happy to provide it.

It was then that he started to learn that maybe it was best to tell the truth. He’d get no harsh words, no beatings, no part of him would hurt. It was odd, at first, because once you go your whole childhood without that kind of understanding, what happens? It took time to peel the layers back and fully examine how he felt, what he knew, what was wrong and what was not.

Cruelty loves liars. Compassion loves truth.

They were opposites. Joe Liebgott knew the different by the time he got home.


End file.
